Inside of me lies
A graveyard of dreams derailed,
Mangled hopes,
Broken homes,
Half finished poems
That no one dares to complete,
And all the while,
While these things lie sleeping
Under their stones,
A flower grows where the children
Don’t dare to go,
But I am skilled in the art of savagery,
So I go down by the graveyard
Every few moons,
Settle down where one day
My bones will find their final rest,
I look at the sky,
And I think –
“How great it must be,
To be alive.”